American Idols
Stories
Object:
Contents
"American Idols" by Keith Heweitt
"Invitation to Peace" by Frank Ramirez
* * * * * * * *
American Idols
by Keith Hewitt
Exodus 32:1-14
There are 110 floors in the Sears Tower. Almost nobody in the city calls it by its legal name, Willis Tower, instead sticking stubbornly to its original given name, like family who use a woman's maiden name long after she's married, because they refuse to acknowledge the obvious mistake. But never mind -- the salient point is that there are 110 floors in the tower, giving it a view of four states and the title of tallest building in the Western Hemisphere.
On the 111th floor, there is a place. It doesn't show on any blueprint, no elevators go there, and no stairways climb its heights -- but it's there. Next to the single door that is the entrance, there is a wooden plank whitened by lead paint that bears the word "Peace" in Greek, Hebrew, and Latin. A buffet curls halfway around the interior wall that marks the core of the building and a polished oak bar completes the circuit. Face the mirrored wall that runs behind both, and you will see an eerie panorama of empty booths and tables.
But turn around and you will find you're not alone...
"Looks like there might be some storms sliding through Wisconsin," Jeremiel observed, standing at a table for two along the glass outer wall, peering north. His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward just a bit, as though an extra few inches might make it easier to see something many miles away. "Yep, definitely in for some weather."
The lone figure at the table looked up disinterestedly, glanced to the north, and shrugged. "Serves 'em right. I lost a bundle on the Bears game last night."
Jeremiel smiled, gestured at the empty chair. "Do you mind?"
"Please, I could use the company." She pushed out the chair with her foot, raised her glass as Jeremiel took his seat across the table. "Cheers."
Jeremiel raised his own glass, nodded, took a sip. It was ice cold and tingled his throat as he swallowed. "So, Ambriel -- something on your mind?" he asked, after a moment or two of strained silence.
"You know I asked to come down here, right? I asked for this posting."
Jeremiel nodded. "I remember. You came down for the Reformation and stayed for the fun." He smiled.
Her answering expression was sour. "Yeah, something like that. I came down here because I had a lot of hope for these people. A lot of faith. Their minds are so wonderful -- capable of such flights of fancy, curiosity, and discernment. They're incredible, really with just a few pounds of flesh up here --" she tapped her head, "-- they're able to figure out some of the deepest, most complex mysteries of the universe."
Jeremiel nodded again. "They are our father's masterpiece. So much potential from so little raw material."
"I know, right? And then they do things like this." She reached down to her seat, raised one hip, and pulled out a magazine she'd been sitting on, dropped it on the table. "Can you believe it?"
Jeremiel looked at the cover, shrugged. "Unfortunately, yes."
"They have the power to figure out what makes the universe tick. More importantly, they have the insight and the heart to find God -- to reach out and worship him, acknowledge him, ask to be drawn closer. And what do they do with all that?" She tapped the cover of the magazine. "They fall all over themselves turning people like this into little demigods. They follow their every move, listen breathlessly to everything they have to say, as though they're actually important."
Jeremiel sighed. "I know what you mean."
"They are wired with the capacity to worship, but they focus it on drug-addled rockstars, and sixteen-year-old girls who get pregnant and have TV shows made about them." She frowned. "You know, I used to think that greed was their problem. Then I realized... they're just stupid." She tossed back the rest of her drink, turned and raised a finger to the waiter to ask for another.
Jeremiel looked out the window, again, gazed north at the dark front moving across the far horizon. "Did you ever raise puppies?" he asked, without looking at Ambriel.
She blinked. "Can't say that I have."
He looked at her, then. "You really should try it, sometime. It can be very soothing -- and instructive."
Ambriel looked across the table at her guest, leaned forward almost in spite of herself. "How so?"
"When you first take a puppy away from its mother, and its litter mates, it knows something is missing. When you put it in a box by itself, try to get it to sleep, it will just pine away for its mother or its brothers and sisters. It knows there's something missing, but I doubt it could intellectualize and tell you what it was."
"Okay," Ambriel said slowly.
"Bear with me. Do you know what you do, then?"
She shook her head.
"You can take a clock -- an old-fashioned ticking clock -- and put it in the puppy's bed. The sound and the feel of that ticking clock will remind the puppy of its mother's heartbeat and will actually be quite soothing. If you don't have a clock, you can use a warm water bottle, or even a stuffed toy, if that's all you have. But they all work."
Ambriel considered this and then shrugged. "Okay. If I ever decide to retire from the angel business and raise dachshunds, I'll know who to call on for expert advice."
Jeremiel shook his head, leaned forward, himself. "Here's the thing. Our father knew about this problem when he gave humankind free will and they separated themselves from him. Man was not meant to be separated from God, so he knew there would be a hole in their lives -- he knew that they would know there was something missing. That's why he gave them the law about idols -- he didn't want them trying to fill that void with something artificial." Jeremiel turned his eyes from the horizon to the figure across the table, smiled crookedly. "That hasn't exactly worked out well."
Ambriel's mouth formed in a silent "oh."
He nodded. "Exactly. That's why he's tried so hard to reach out to them -- he didn't want them filling that void with nonsense. But people are stubborn -- they don't listen well, and they have a regrettable tendency to fill that gap between themselves and the divine with all sorts of crap... if you'll pardon my language." He leaned back and spread his hands. "Not that they imagine that they're actually worshiping money or these ruined lives masquerading as celebrities -- but call it what you will, it comes from the same reflex, the same desire to bridge the gap between what they are, and what they could be, if they were in full connection with God."
"So this endless obsession over the flavor of the week?"
"A very, very misguided attempt to connect with something. The trouble is, too many people equate fame with worth -- real worth, I mean. They think just because someone's famous, they're somehow better than they are -- but the truth is, they're all the same. They're all children in need of God's love."
"So what can we do?"
"Well, we can't keep tabloids from printing. We can't keep reality TV off the air. Those just point to the symptoms, anyway -- we just have to go after the root cause, do what we've been doing all along. Gently help people... give them a nudge, every now and then, try to help them along when we can." He paused, drained his glass, and set it down with a distinct thud. "Bottom line: just love them, Ambriel. God does, in spite of everything. Even when they think they've found something better."
Ambriel picked up the magazine, again, stared at the cover -- then dropped it, shrugged, and sighed. "Life's too short, right?"
Jeremiel smiled. "Well, theirs is."
Keith Hewitt is the author of two volumes of NaTiVity Dramas: Nontraditional Christmas Plays for All Ages (CSS). He is a local pastor, co-youth leader, former Sunday school teacher, and occasional speaker at Christian events. He lives in southeastern Wisconsin with his wife, two children, and assorted dogs and cats.
Invitation to Peace
by Frank Ramirez
Matthew 22:1-14
(Jesus said,) "The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son. He sent his slaves to call those who had been invited to the wedding banquet, but they would not come…."
-- Matthew 22:2-3
World War I, which resulted in the death of at least twenty million people, started in part because no one knew how to stop it. After the war, invitations went out to bring all nations to the same table to work for peace -- but the United States refused the invitation to join the League of Nations. Some blame that rejection of the invitation as one of the reasons the league failed and of course World War II was much, much worse.
Afterward another effort was made to bring all nations to the same table. One of those in the forefront was a peacemaker who worked tirelessly in the name of the Prince of Peace, Jesus Christ. Born on a farm near Canton, Ohio, he later attributed his work ethic to the long hours he spent working with his parents, beginning at the age of 5. He quarterbacked his high school football team and throughout his life he drew upon the athletic stamina he developed during those years.
Ordained as a minister by the Church of the Brethren, he studied at the Graduate Institute of International Studies in Geneva. He settled into an academic life. Cordier was the chair of the Department of History and Political Science at Manchester College from 1925-1944 and also was a lecturer for Indiana University's Extension Division. He also helped establish the first Peace Studies program at the college level.
At this point in his life he entered the larger world of international diplomacy, taking a position in the State Department as World War II waned. It was becoming clearer than the Allies would win the war against the Axis -- the question was whether the nations of the world could win the peace. There was talk about a new organization to replace the old, one that would have more of an impact. Cordier, in his capacity as an expert on international security, directly helped shape this new organization and was one of those who influenced the government of the United States to support and join what became the United Nations. He brought them to the table.
Thus he became one of the UN's principal movers and shakers. Cordier was Assistant to the Secretary-General and then Under-Secretary of the United Nations from 1944 to 1962. His commitment to peace stood him well in his tireless work for negotiation and reconciliation. Years later he told an interviewer, "I feel... that if the UN had not existed, we could have had World III several times in the last 25 years." He spoke of the way the United Nations put out what he called "brush fires," which could have led to major international conflagrations.
Cordier was known for his extraordinary endurance, allowing him to work what seemed to others as impossible hours. His tireless preparation would pay off as he worked with contending parties to find places of middle ground and agreement. He was endlessly patient. His work would sometimes find him in quiet consultation. On other occasions he would be in the midst of physically dangerous confrontations in trouble spots around the world.
As an example, once when the Korean War was raging and neither the Soviets nor the United States were talking he managed to get Secretary of State Dean Rusk and Yakov A Malik, the representative of the Soviet Union to the UN, to come to the clubroom in his basement to talk things out, reviving communication between the two countries.
His prodigious memory made him the perfect parliamentarian for the organization. Working with the Secretary Generals under whom he served, he could quote from the charter and other relevant documents without having to look them up, and once, when the organization was stuck on a point and he himself was sick and asleep at home, he was awakened with a phone call asking for direction on an obscure parliamentary point. Cordier was able to quote "chapter and verse for the precise rule to resolve the argument."
He could work for hours with warring parties without ever tiring. He was also a personable and much-loved employer, personally supervising the 3,500 employees of the United Nations. The staff came from the four corners of the earth, but he maintained a positive attitude among the workforce.
Cordier adapted his style to suit the needs of the people he worked with. Under Trygve Lie, the first General Secretary of the United Nations, he was called upon for a good deal of advice. Lie's successor, Dag Hammarskjold, preferred to make his own decisions, so Cordier excelled at executing those decisions.
Cordier resigned his UN post in 1962, when the Soviets accused him of trying to run the Untied Nations by himself. He chose not to make himself the issue and instead moved back into the life of an academic, taking the position of dean of the School of International Affairs at Columbia University. He told one reporter that he expected to find his return to the academic world "less fascinating" than the world of international conflict and crisis he had left behind.
But six years later, a student strike at Columbia shut down many parts of the university and led to a violent police charge and the arrests of hundreds of students. Columbia's embattled president resigned and Cordier reluctantly took over.
Using the same skills he employed at the UN, Cordier reached out to all members of the student community. He was tough enough to effect the arrests of a very few, but he worked hard to incorporate all the populations of the university into a process of reconciliation. He invited hundreds of students, faculty, and community members into his home for dinner and discussions and soon made peace among warring factions. He also reached out to and included the largely African-American community that surrounded the university.
In Jesus' time sharing the same table meant creating relationships that could turn enemies into friends. To turn down an invitation to the table was an extraordinary insult. Cordier was one of those who worked hard to bring people together around the table of peace, in the name of Jesus and for the good of the world.
Frank Ramirez has served as a pastor for nearly 30 years in Church of the Brethren congregations in Los Angeles, California; Elkhart, Indiana; and Everett, Pennsylvania. A graduate of LaVerne College and Bethany Theological Seminary, Ramirez is the author of numerous books, articles, and short stories. His CSS titles include Partners in Healing, He Took a Towel, The Bee Attitudes, and three volumes of Lectionary Worship Aids.
*****************************************
StoryShare, October 9, 2011, issue.
Copyright 2011 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
"American Idols" by Keith Heweitt
"Invitation to Peace" by Frank Ramirez
* * * * * * * *
American Idols
by Keith Hewitt
Exodus 32:1-14
There are 110 floors in the Sears Tower. Almost nobody in the city calls it by its legal name, Willis Tower, instead sticking stubbornly to its original given name, like family who use a woman's maiden name long after she's married, because they refuse to acknowledge the obvious mistake. But never mind -- the salient point is that there are 110 floors in the tower, giving it a view of four states and the title of tallest building in the Western Hemisphere.
On the 111th floor, there is a place. It doesn't show on any blueprint, no elevators go there, and no stairways climb its heights -- but it's there. Next to the single door that is the entrance, there is a wooden plank whitened by lead paint that bears the word "Peace" in Greek, Hebrew, and Latin. A buffet curls halfway around the interior wall that marks the core of the building and a polished oak bar completes the circuit. Face the mirrored wall that runs behind both, and you will see an eerie panorama of empty booths and tables.
But turn around and you will find you're not alone...
"Looks like there might be some storms sliding through Wisconsin," Jeremiel observed, standing at a table for two along the glass outer wall, peering north. His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward just a bit, as though an extra few inches might make it easier to see something many miles away. "Yep, definitely in for some weather."
The lone figure at the table looked up disinterestedly, glanced to the north, and shrugged. "Serves 'em right. I lost a bundle on the Bears game last night."
Jeremiel smiled, gestured at the empty chair. "Do you mind?"
"Please, I could use the company." She pushed out the chair with her foot, raised her glass as Jeremiel took his seat across the table. "Cheers."
Jeremiel raised his own glass, nodded, took a sip. It was ice cold and tingled his throat as he swallowed. "So, Ambriel -- something on your mind?" he asked, after a moment or two of strained silence.
"You know I asked to come down here, right? I asked for this posting."
Jeremiel nodded. "I remember. You came down for the Reformation and stayed for the fun." He smiled.
Her answering expression was sour. "Yeah, something like that. I came down here because I had a lot of hope for these people. A lot of faith. Their minds are so wonderful -- capable of such flights of fancy, curiosity, and discernment. They're incredible, really with just a few pounds of flesh up here --" she tapped her head, "-- they're able to figure out some of the deepest, most complex mysteries of the universe."
Jeremiel nodded again. "They are our father's masterpiece. So much potential from so little raw material."
"I know, right? And then they do things like this." She reached down to her seat, raised one hip, and pulled out a magazine she'd been sitting on, dropped it on the table. "Can you believe it?"
Jeremiel looked at the cover, shrugged. "Unfortunately, yes."
"They have the power to figure out what makes the universe tick. More importantly, they have the insight and the heart to find God -- to reach out and worship him, acknowledge him, ask to be drawn closer. And what do they do with all that?" She tapped the cover of the magazine. "They fall all over themselves turning people like this into little demigods. They follow their every move, listen breathlessly to everything they have to say, as though they're actually important."
Jeremiel sighed. "I know what you mean."
"They are wired with the capacity to worship, but they focus it on drug-addled rockstars, and sixteen-year-old girls who get pregnant and have TV shows made about them." She frowned. "You know, I used to think that greed was their problem. Then I realized... they're just stupid." She tossed back the rest of her drink, turned and raised a finger to the waiter to ask for another.
Jeremiel looked out the window, again, gazed north at the dark front moving across the far horizon. "Did you ever raise puppies?" he asked, without looking at Ambriel.
She blinked. "Can't say that I have."
He looked at her, then. "You really should try it, sometime. It can be very soothing -- and instructive."
Ambriel looked across the table at her guest, leaned forward almost in spite of herself. "How so?"
"When you first take a puppy away from its mother, and its litter mates, it knows something is missing. When you put it in a box by itself, try to get it to sleep, it will just pine away for its mother or its brothers and sisters. It knows there's something missing, but I doubt it could intellectualize and tell you what it was."
"Okay," Ambriel said slowly.
"Bear with me. Do you know what you do, then?"
She shook her head.
"You can take a clock -- an old-fashioned ticking clock -- and put it in the puppy's bed. The sound and the feel of that ticking clock will remind the puppy of its mother's heartbeat and will actually be quite soothing. If you don't have a clock, you can use a warm water bottle, or even a stuffed toy, if that's all you have. But they all work."
Ambriel considered this and then shrugged. "Okay. If I ever decide to retire from the angel business and raise dachshunds, I'll know who to call on for expert advice."
Jeremiel shook his head, leaned forward, himself. "Here's the thing. Our father knew about this problem when he gave humankind free will and they separated themselves from him. Man was not meant to be separated from God, so he knew there would be a hole in their lives -- he knew that they would know there was something missing. That's why he gave them the law about idols -- he didn't want them trying to fill that void with something artificial." Jeremiel turned his eyes from the horizon to the figure across the table, smiled crookedly. "That hasn't exactly worked out well."
Ambriel's mouth formed in a silent "oh."
He nodded. "Exactly. That's why he's tried so hard to reach out to them -- he didn't want them filling that void with nonsense. But people are stubborn -- they don't listen well, and they have a regrettable tendency to fill that gap between themselves and the divine with all sorts of crap... if you'll pardon my language." He leaned back and spread his hands. "Not that they imagine that they're actually worshiping money or these ruined lives masquerading as celebrities -- but call it what you will, it comes from the same reflex, the same desire to bridge the gap between what they are, and what they could be, if they were in full connection with God."
"So this endless obsession over the flavor of the week?"
"A very, very misguided attempt to connect with something. The trouble is, too many people equate fame with worth -- real worth, I mean. They think just because someone's famous, they're somehow better than they are -- but the truth is, they're all the same. They're all children in need of God's love."
"So what can we do?"
"Well, we can't keep tabloids from printing. We can't keep reality TV off the air. Those just point to the symptoms, anyway -- we just have to go after the root cause, do what we've been doing all along. Gently help people... give them a nudge, every now and then, try to help them along when we can." He paused, drained his glass, and set it down with a distinct thud. "Bottom line: just love them, Ambriel. God does, in spite of everything. Even when they think they've found something better."
Ambriel picked up the magazine, again, stared at the cover -- then dropped it, shrugged, and sighed. "Life's too short, right?"
Jeremiel smiled. "Well, theirs is."
Keith Hewitt is the author of two volumes of NaTiVity Dramas: Nontraditional Christmas Plays for All Ages (CSS). He is a local pastor, co-youth leader, former Sunday school teacher, and occasional speaker at Christian events. He lives in southeastern Wisconsin with his wife, two children, and assorted dogs and cats.
Invitation to Peace
by Frank Ramirez
Matthew 22:1-14
(Jesus said,) "The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son. He sent his slaves to call those who had been invited to the wedding banquet, but they would not come…."
-- Matthew 22:2-3
World War I, which resulted in the death of at least twenty million people, started in part because no one knew how to stop it. After the war, invitations went out to bring all nations to the same table to work for peace -- but the United States refused the invitation to join the League of Nations. Some blame that rejection of the invitation as one of the reasons the league failed and of course World War II was much, much worse.
Afterward another effort was made to bring all nations to the same table. One of those in the forefront was a peacemaker who worked tirelessly in the name of the Prince of Peace, Jesus Christ. Born on a farm near Canton, Ohio, he later attributed his work ethic to the long hours he spent working with his parents, beginning at the age of 5. He quarterbacked his high school football team and throughout his life he drew upon the athletic stamina he developed during those years.
Ordained as a minister by the Church of the Brethren, he studied at the Graduate Institute of International Studies in Geneva. He settled into an academic life. Cordier was the chair of the Department of History and Political Science at Manchester College from 1925-1944 and also was a lecturer for Indiana University's Extension Division. He also helped establish the first Peace Studies program at the college level.
At this point in his life he entered the larger world of international diplomacy, taking a position in the State Department as World War II waned. It was becoming clearer than the Allies would win the war against the Axis -- the question was whether the nations of the world could win the peace. There was talk about a new organization to replace the old, one that would have more of an impact. Cordier, in his capacity as an expert on international security, directly helped shape this new organization and was one of those who influenced the government of the United States to support and join what became the United Nations. He brought them to the table.
Thus he became one of the UN's principal movers and shakers. Cordier was Assistant to the Secretary-General and then Under-Secretary of the United Nations from 1944 to 1962. His commitment to peace stood him well in his tireless work for negotiation and reconciliation. Years later he told an interviewer, "I feel... that if the UN had not existed, we could have had World III several times in the last 25 years." He spoke of the way the United Nations put out what he called "brush fires," which could have led to major international conflagrations.
Cordier was known for his extraordinary endurance, allowing him to work what seemed to others as impossible hours. His tireless preparation would pay off as he worked with contending parties to find places of middle ground and agreement. He was endlessly patient. His work would sometimes find him in quiet consultation. On other occasions he would be in the midst of physically dangerous confrontations in trouble spots around the world.
As an example, once when the Korean War was raging and neither the Soviets nor the United States were talking he managed to get Secretary of State Dean Rusk and Yakov A Malik, the representative of the Soviet Union to the UN, to come to the clubroom in his basement to talk things out, reviving communication between the two countries.
His prodigious memory made him the perfect parliamentarian for the organization. Working with the Secretary Generals under whom he served, he could quote from the charter and other relevant documents without having to look them up, and once, when the organization was stuck on a point and he himself was sick and asleep at home, he was awakened with a phone call asking for direction on an obscure parliamentary point. Cordier was able to quote "chapter and verse for the precise rule to resolve the argument."
He could work for hours with warring parties without ever tiring. He was also a personable and much-loved employer, personally supervising the 3,500 employees of the United Nations. The staff came from the four corners of the earth, but he maintained a positive attitude among the workforce.
Cordier adapted his style to suit the needs of the people he worked with. Under Trygve Lie, the first General Secretary of the United Nations, he was called upon for a good deal of advice. Lie's successor, Dag Hammarskjold, preferred to make his own decisions, so Cordier excelled at executing those decisions.
Cordier resigned his UN post in 1962, when the Soviets accused him of trying to run the Untied Nations by himself. He chose not to make himself the issue and instead moved back into the life of an academic, taking the position of dean of the School of International Affairs at Columbia University. He told one reporter that he expected to find his return to the academic world "less fascinating" than the world of international conflict and crisis he had left behind.
But six years later, a student strike at Columbia shut down many parts of the university and led to a violent police charge and the arrests of hundreds of students. Columbia's embattled president resigned and Cordier reluctantly took over.
Using the same skills he employed at the UN, Cordier reached out to all members of the student community. He was tough enough to effect the arrests of a very few, but he worked hard to incorporate all the populations of the university into a process of reconciliation. He invited hundreds of students, faculty, and community members into his home for dinner and discussions and soon made peace among warring factions. He also reached out to and included the largely African-American community that surrounded the university.
In Jesus' time sharing the same table meant creating relationships that could turn enemies into friends. To turn down an invitation to the table was an extraordinary insult. Cordier was one of those who worked hard to bring people together around the table of peace, in the name of Jesus and for the good of the world.
Frank Ramirez has served as a pastor for nearly 30 years in Church of the Brethren congregations in Los Angeles, California; Elkhart, Indiana; and Everett, Pennsylvania. A graduate of LaVerne College and Bethany Theological Seminary, Ramirez is the author of numerous books, articles, and short stories. His CSS titles include Partners in Healing, He Took a Towel, The Bee Attitudes, and three volumes of Lectionary Worship Aids.
*****************************************
StoryShare, October 9, 2011, issue.
Copyright 2011 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
